The Depths of Her Mind
by thegoodgirldoll
Summary: The torture of the accident, of her being in the hospital never ended. It followed them, everywhere, and it was becoming to painful. All he wanted was for her to come home, and he wasn't sure she ever would.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I feel so shy having not written Ian and Erin for about two years now. Please let me know if they are a little rusty- being that they are my favorite characters, I really hope they aren't, though. Enjoy, and please review!**

**God Bless,**

**Thegoodgirldoll**

_ "It's very touch and go right now, Mr. Mckinley. Just go home."_

They kept saying that. Over and over they told him to go home, to get a shower, to eat something…But how could he go home without her? How could he shower when she wasn't wrapped in a towel afterwards next to him? How could he eat something when she must be starving? He fought them tooth and nail to stay with her; to spend the night by her bedside, and finally they had relented and let him. They began with more bull, though. They tried to tell him that she couldn't hear him; that he was wasting his time, and he had gone off on them. He had screamed that she could hear him, that it wasn't anything short of worth his time to spend it all with her, and be there when she wakes up. Of course, though, his outburst had gotten him kicked out, and he had been forced to leave the hospital.

He was home now, alone. He shrugged off his heavy black jacket, the safety pins clanking to the floor in a heap. He kicked off his converse, tossing them in the corner of the room and removing his grey T-shirt. He flopped down on his bed, wincing in pain as he pulled the remote control out from under his back. He turned on his TV and then turned off his lamplight, watching the colors and light on the channel he had on, but keeping the volume down. All he needed right now was the distraction of light, not sound. It was his eyes that needed averting because every time he closed them he saw her again; he saw the accident. He watched the nails shoot through her once more, puncturing her shoulder, her neck. There were pieces inside of him that wondered if her being out of this misery would be better for her; he didn't want her lying in a hospital bed suffering.

There was another, larger part of him though, that acknowledged God for once and thanked Him for sparing Erin's life…Thus far, anyway. Ian knew that the accident had been brutal; that it may not be able to be reversed. He was painfully aware that even the nail grazing her brain could cause her to forget him. When she woke up, she may react poorly, and die despite their efforts…Or, she could live and not know him, and who they are to one another. Or, what Ian hoped for the most, she could wake and everything would go back to normal. He could take her home and nurse her back to health with kisses and chicken noodle soup, but he knew this wasn't the common cold. He knew it wasn't going to be fixed in a day, even if she did wake up tomorrow with no complications.

Ian feared for her life, still. He clutched the pillow she always slept on tightly in his fist, a piece of it anyway. He held it tight, so tight that he only let go when his hand went numb. Resting his hand on his chest, the smell he had gathered in his fist filled his nostrils, and he smelled _her. _He smelled her absolutely lovely, sweet scent. It was then that tears stung at his eyes. He couldn't be left with only a pillow; a smell that would only linger for so long. He needed to her wake-up; he needed her to come back home, to their apartment and their life. He needed his Pip. The truth was, he felt incomplete without her. There was a gaping hole in his chest that these past few days had only made wider and wider.

He felt like he could explode with anger, bitterness, or sadness at any given second. His heart hammered in his chest at all times with fear, anxiety, worry, and rage. It was difficult to try and stay calm for her, but he knew she would want him to. If she were with him right now, she would be laughing at his shaking, telling him to cut it out. She was always the one that told him when he was being melodramatic, which he found funny since he thought that usually girls were told that, not guys. He supposed he was a bit of a worrier, though, when it came to her. How couldn't he be, though? She was his life, his air, his everything. She was the reason he smiled instead of scowled, and the reason he lived to be a better man instead of average. He worked hard to make a life for her that they could call their own; that she could feel secure in. Yet, he hadn't been able to keep her safe. He felt like a failure.

He rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes slowly, giving in to sleep. In the darkness, though, with the TV long forgotten in the background, he whispered her name, and assured her that he would keep her side of the bed warm until she came home. Before he completely succumbed to sleep, he added softly: "Please come home."

**Author's Note: So that is where we are so far...Poor Ian **** I can't give away my plans for this story, but I hope you all will review and follow it to find out all the little details. In this story, by the way, Ian and Erin are living together by the time the deaths begin happening. You will see all of those explanations in the next few chapters, but I wanted to make sure there was no confusion. I hope you all enjoyed, I am so happy to be writing them again! I will update soon if you all like it! **

**God Bless,**

**Sarah**


	2. Chapter 2

Ian held the long stems of the flowers tight in his hand. Small, not yet developed thorns felt rough and jagged against his skin, but he ignored them. Holding the flowers at his side, they swayed back and forth as he walked hastily to catch the elevator that a group of people had just stepped on. An elderly gentleman held the door open for him, and he jumped in quickly, noting that the man hadn't looked him down with disgust like many older people did. Ian supposed he gave off that aura sometimes, the rebel who didn't care about anything, especially with his black-pinned jacket and coal jeans. It elevated his spirits in the slightest to know that not all of the older human race was as judgmental as he thought they were.

The elevator came to a swift stop on the third floor where Ian was the only one to step out. Anticipation mounted in his chest, then, as he finally arrived on that floor and the elevator shut behind him. He took in a deep breath and walked in the direction of Erin's room.

"Please be awake today," he chanted to himself. "Please remember me."

He opened the door quietly when he entered, and was submerged in silence. Still, she was asleep. She slept peacefully against her pillow, auburn hair spread over the blue fabric. Ian reached out a hand and rubbed her forehead gently before bending down to kiss her head. He straightened up, then, and put the various flowers he had bought her in the vase by her bed, replacing the old ones. He had brought some by at the beginning of the week, but they were dead now.

Ian wanted nothing dismal; dead, in her room. So he brought the fresh ones. It was hard sitting by her bed, holding her limp hand and feeling its lack of warmth, but he had to. It was his duty as her boyfriend to be by her side no matter what; he needed to be the first one she saw when she awoke. In his mind, he wondered if she _would _awake, but he quickly shut those thoughts down. He felt like a weight was on his shoulders that he could no longer carry, and it was beginning to suffocate him. His mind was plagued with the same mental images over and over of her falling; of the nails shooting her. The accident had been horrific; anything that hurt his Pip was horrific.

Ian wanted to avenge her so terribly, but he knew deep down that if she didn't make it, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to do that. He knew he would find it hard to get out of their bed, let alone try and build up the guts and courage to hurt someone else. He knew that the only person he wanted to hurt anyway was Wendy, but why take her life when Erin may still survive? She was strong, he knew; she could pull through. As hard as he knew it would be for her, it was even harder for him waiting and trying to be strong. The last thing he felt like was strong. He felt like a thousand knives were stabbing him in the chest…A thousand _nails. _

"Pip," he said softly. "It's pretty cold out today."

_Weather. _He scowled at himself. Why would she want to hear about the weather? But he continued anyway.

"I know you love cold weather," he rubbed her hand with his thumb, tracing small hearts. "I brought a jacket for you to come home in, so if you want to wake up today it's ready for you."

He paused momentarily, awaiting a response. None came of course; he felt stupid.

"I just want to know if my hoping is futile, Erin. I've always had faith in you, but I'm so _so _scared you're going to give up. _Please _don't- not yet."

His heart began to ache further as he pressed on with the subject of her waking up. These days spent without her had been the hardest days of his life; he didn't know what to do with himself. He hardly knew how to sleep alone anymore, how to cook alone, how to make himself warm. She aided him in everything; she was his biggest luxury and companion. It all broke him in that second, then. He buried his face into his hands as he leaned his head on the side of her bed. Hot tears flowed freely from his eyes as he tried to no avail to muffle his crying. He didn't know how long he sat like that, though, before he felt the movement. Finally, he looked up and saw her eyes, staring at him, wide open.

Her eyes weren't warm, though. The lack of comprehension there scared him- the way she looked right through him. Her first words hit him like a rather large brick to the chest, and his breathing hitched in his throat as he tried not to cry once more.

"Do I know you?" She whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

His chest ached with the realization that she actually didn't; didn't recognize him. His breathing hitched in his throat as he appraised her, staring into her eyes as kindly as possible. He reached out his hand to her in a desperate, last attempt to get her back, but she flinched away from him and scowled in response. Behind her eyes that were so ablaze with anger, there was fear, and he retreated immediately, attempting to hide the tears in his eyes and the look of pure pain that etched into every line of his face.

"Ian," he chocked out. "Ian. You know me. You've known me all of your life."

His pleas sounded desperate and disillusioned; he felt pathetic as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

" Erin , please."

She stared at him unblinkingly and shook her head.

"What did you just call me?"

Confusion swept over her eyes and he stared at her in disbelief.

" Erin; your name. I called you your name."

She shook her head once more, slower this time.

"It isn't your name?" He asked softly; as kindly as possible.

She shrugged before glancing down at her bed sheets.

"What is your name?"

She looked up at him momentarily before surveying the rest of the room; avoiding his gaze as much as possible.

"Dunno." She whispered barely audibly.

It didn't take long for Ian to lose his composure completely, and once he had, he heard Erin offer him a sad sigh. She always quietly sighed when something bad was happening; kept to herself, but gently showed that she cared. He couldn't help the bubble of hope that rose up in his chest at this observation: She still acted the same, she just didn't remember the same. He raised his head a bit from where he had had it in his lap, crying deeply, before staring at her. His eyes red and crystal in appearance, he reached out his hand once more, and out of sympathy, she took it. The smallest bit of what Ian hoped was recognition flashed across her eyes, but as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and he heaved a larger sigh.

"You really remember nothing?" He asked slowly, relishing in the feel of her hand against his.

He never knew how much holding hands could mean until now.

"What is there to remember?" She asked softly, moving her hand from his grasp out of nervousness.

"The accident; anything before it," he offered. "Me."

She stared at him with eyes that held only pity, but no longer even a slice of recognition. His heart broke in half as he appraised her features: her pale skin, the dewy appearance of sweat sticking to her forehead, the light pink of her lips as opposed to the red that normally took residence over them. He watched her eyes flutter closed every so often as she fought to stay awake and answer him. He waited with despair at what could come of her next moments. Suppose the procedure didn't keep her issues resolved; suppose she forced him out of the room because she really didn't recognize him _that _much? He was terrified, but he tried his best to keep that terror at bay- for her.

"I don't remember you," she mumbled, glancing down at her hands. "I do remember…_pain; _a lot of pain."

Ian's heart felt heavy in that moment and all he wanted to do was stretch out to hold her hand, but he knew that she would be opposed to the idea so he kept his emotions down and instead watched her silently, willing her to continue to speak. She took the hint and continued on then, glancing at him momentarily before looking back down at her hands as she fumbled with her bed sheets.

"I remember waking up to the sirens," she winced as though her head still hurt as badly as it had that night- he was sure it really did ache, still- and Ian smiled sadly as he still continued to silently push her to speak. "I remember the agony, for just a split second, and then everything was black and calm and…Then I woke up with you here."

Then is when she lifted her gaze once more to meet his eyes, and she stared into them for a long while before sighing heavily.

"You really know me? Well?"

Ian couldn't help the smile that broke across his face then before a lone tear slid down his cheek.

"You're my girlfriend," he spoke when he composed himself as much as he could before breaking down. "I love you."

His face was lost in his tears then as they came hot and quickly, pouring over his cheeks and onto his lips so he could taste their saltiness. Erin sat there, staring at him silently, searching her mind for something to say.

But all that was there was an empty hole; a void that she couldn't fill with anything because she didn't know _anything. _

All she knew was pain. All she remembered was the urgency; the fear of it all. And blackness.

The depths of her mind held _nothing _for her to associate with…

Fear gripped at her heart and she tried to keep her own tears at bay.

He was her only link to piecing her life back together. He was the only way, no matter how scared she was.


End file.
